the turmoil-第2章

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fiercer。



He　was　the　city　incarnate。　　He　loved　it；　calling　it　God's　country；　as　he

called　the　smoke　Prosperity；　breathing　the　dingy　cloud　with　relish。　　And　when

soot　fell　upon　his　cuff　he　chuckled；　he　could　have　kissed　it。　〃It's　good！　It's

good！〃　he　said；　and　smacked　his　lips　in　gusto。　　〃Good；　clean　soot；　it's　our

life…blood；　God　bless　it！〃　　The　smoke　was　one　of　his　great　enthusiasms；　he

laughed　at　a　committee　of　plaintive　housewives　who　called　to　beg　his　aid

against　it。　　〃Smoke's　what　brings　your　husbands'　money　home　on　Saturday　night；

〃he　told　them；　jovially。　　〃Smoke　may　hurt　your　little　shrubberies　in　the　front

yard　some；　but　it's　the　catarrhal　climate　and　the　adenoids　that　starts　your

chuldern　coughing。　　Smoke　makes　the　climate　better。　　Smoke　means　good　health：

it　makes　the　people　wash　more。　　They　have　to　wash　so　much　they　wash　off　the

microbes。　　You　go　home　and　ask　your　husbands　what　smoke　puts　in　their　pockets

out　o'　the　pay…rolland　you'll　come　around　next　time　to　get　me　to　turn　out

more　smoke　instead　o'　chokin'　it　off！〃



It　was　Narcissism　in　him　to　love　the　city　so　well；　he　saw　his　reflection　in

it；　and；　like　it；　he　was　grimy；　big；　careless；　rich；　strong；　and　unquenchably

optimistic。　　From　the　deepest　of　his　inside　all　the　way　out　he　believed　it　was

the　finest　city　in　the　world。　　〃Finest〃　was　his　word。　　He　thought　of　it　as　his

city　as　he　thought　of　his　family　as　his　family；　and　just　as　profoundly

believed　his　city　to　be　the　finest　city　in　the　world；　so　did　he　believe　his

family　to　bein　spite　of　his　son　Bibbsthe　finest　family　in　the　world。　As　a

matter　of　fact；　he　knew　nothing　worth　knowing　about　either。



Bibbs　Sheridan　was　a　musing　sort　of　boy；　poor　in　health；　and　considered　the

failurethe　〃odd　one〃of　the　family。　　Born　during　that　most　dangerous　and

anxious　of　the　early　years；　when　the　mother　fretted　and　the　father　took　his

chance；　he　was　an　ill…nourished　baby；　and　grew　meagerly；　only　lengthwise；

through　a　feeble　childhood。　　At　his　christening　he　was　committed　for　life　to

〃Bibbs〃　mainly　through　lack　of　imagination　on　his　mother's　part；　for　though　it

was　her　maiden　name；　she　had　no　strong　affection　for　it；　but　it　was　〃her　turn〃

to　name　the　baby；　and；　as　she　explained　later；　she　〃couldn't　think　of　anything

else　she　liked　AT　ALL！〃　　She　offered　this　explanation　one　day　when　the　sickly

boy　was　nine　and　after　a　long　fit　of　brooding　had　demanded　some　reason　for　his

name's　being　Bibbs。　　He　requested　then　with　unwonted　vehemence　to　be　allowed

to　exchange　names　with　his　older　brother；　Roscoe　Conkling　Sheridan；　or　with

the　oldest；　James　Sheridan；　Junior；　and　upon　being　refused　went　down　into　the

cellar　and　remained　there　the　rest　of　that　day。　　And　the　cook；　descending

toward　dusk；　reported　that　he　had　vanished；　but　a　search　revealed　that　he　was

in　the　coal…pile；　completely　covered　and　still　burrowing。　Removed　by　force　and

carried　upstairs；　he　maintained　a　cryptic　demeanor；　refusing　to　utter　a

syllable　of　explanation；　even　under　the　lash。　　This　obvious　thing　was　wholly　a

mystery　to　both　parents；　the　mother　was　nonplussed；　failed　to　trace　and

connect；　and　the　father　regarded　his　son　as　a　stubborn　and　mysterious　fool；　an

impression　not　effaced　as　the　years　went　by。



At　twenty…two；　Bibbs　was　physically　no　more　than　the　outer　scaffolding　of　a

man；　waiting　for　the　building　to　begin　insidea　long…shanked；　long…faced；

rickety　youth；　sallow　and　hollow　and　haggard；　dark…haired　and　dark…eyed；　with

a　peculiar　expression　of　countenance；　indeed；　at　first　sight　of　Bibbs　Sheridan

a　stranger　might　well　be　solicitous；　for　he　seemed　upon　the　point　of　tears。

But　to　a　slightly　longer　gaze；　not　grief；　but　mirth；　was　revealed　as　his

emotion；　while　a　more　searching　scrutiny　was　proportionately　more　puzzlinghe

seemed　about　to　burst　out　crying　or　to　burst　out　laughing；　one　or　the　other；

inevitably；　but　it　was　impossible　to　decide　which。　　And　Bibbs　never；　on　any

occassion　of　his　life；　either　laughed　aloud　or　wept。



He　was　a　〃disappointment〃　to　his　father。　　At　least　that　was　the　parent's　word

a　confirmed　and　established　word　after　his　first　attempt　to　make　a　〃business

man〃　of　the　boy。　　He　sent　Bibbs　to　〃begin　at　the　bottom　and　learn　from　the

ground　up〃　in　the　machine…shop　of　the　Sheridan　Automatic　Pump　Works；　and　at

the　end　of　six　months　the　family　physician　sent　Bibbs　to　begin　at　the　bottom

and　learn　from　the　ground　up　in　a　sanitarium。



〃You　needn't　worry；　mamma；〃　Sheridan　told　his　wife。　〃There's　nothin'　the

matter　with　Bibbs　except　he　hates　work　so　much　it　makes　him　sick。　　I　put　him

in　the　machine…shop；　and　I　guess　I　know　what　I'm　doin'　about　as　well　as　the

next　man。　　Ole　Doc　Gurney　always　was　one　o'　them　nutty　alarmists。　　Does　he

think　I'd　do　anything　'd　be　bad　for　my　own　flesh　and　blood？　　He　makes　me

tired！〃



Anything　except　perfectly　definite　health　or　perfectly　definite　disease　was

incomprehensible　to　Sheridan。　　He　had　a　genuine　conviction　that　lack　of

physical　persistence　in　any　task　involving　money　must　be　due　to　some　subtle

weakness　of　character　itself；　to　some　profound　shiftlessness　or　slyness。　　He

understood　typhoid　fever；　pheumonia；　and　appendicitisone　had　them；　and

either　died　or　got　over　them　and　went　back　to　workbut　when　the　word

〃nervous〃　appeared　in　a　diagnosis　he　became　honestly　suspicious：　he　had　the

feeling　that　there　was　something　contemptible　about　it；　that　there　was　a

nigger　in　the　wood…pile　somewhere。



〃Look　at　me；〃　he　said。　　〃Look　at　what　I　did　at　his　age！　　Why；　when　I　was

twenty　years　old；　wasn't　I　up　every　morning　at　four　o'clock　choppin'　wood

yes！　and　out　in　the　dark　and　the　snowto　build　a　fire　in　a　country　grocery

store？　　And　here　Bibbs　has　to　go　and　have　a　DOCTOR　because　he　can'tPho！　it

makes　me　tired！　　If　he'd　gone　at　it　like　a　man　he　wouldn't　be　sick。〃



He　paced　the　bedroomthe　usual　setting　for　such　parental　discussionsin　his

nightgown；　shaking　his　big；　grizzled　head　and　gesticulating　to　his　bedded

spouse。　　〃My　Lord！〃　he　said。　　〃If　a　little；　teeny　bit　o'　work　like　this　is　too

much　for　him；　why；　he　ain't　fit　for　anything！　　It's　nine…tenths　imagination；

and　the　rest　of　itwell；　I　won't　say　it's　deliberate；　but　I　WOULD　like　to

know　just　how　much　of　it's　put　on！〃



〃Bibbs　didn't　want　the　doctor；〃　said　Mrs。　Sheridan。　　〃It　was　when　he　was　here

to　dinner　that　night；　and　noticed　how　he　couldn't　eat　anything。　　Honey；　you

better　come　to　bed。〃



〃Eat！〃　he　snorted。　　〃Eat！　It's　work　that　makes　men　eat！　　And　it's　imagination

that　keeps　people　from　eatin'。　　Busy　men　don't　get　time　for　that　kind　of

imagination；　and　there's　another　thing　you'll　notice　about　good　health；　if

you'll　take　the　trouble　to　look　around　you；　Mrs。　Sheridan：　busy　men　haven't

got　time　to　be　sick　and　they　don't　GET　sick。　　You　just　think　it　over　and

you'll　find　that　ninety…nine　per　cent。　of　the　sick　people　you　know　are　either

women　or　loafers。　　Yes；　ma'am！〃



〃Honey；〃　she　said　again；　drowsily；　〃you　better　come　to　bed。〃



〃Look　at　the　other　boys；〃　her　husband　bade　her。　　〃Look　at　Jim　and　Roscoe。　Look

at　how　THEY　work！　　There　isn't　a　shiftless　bone　in　their　bodies。　　Work　never

made　Jim　or　Roscoe　sick。　　Jim　takes　half　the　load　off　my　shoulders　already。

Right　now　there　isn't　a　harder…workin'；　brighter　business　man　in　this　city

than　Jim。　　I've　pushed　him；　but　he　give　me　something　to　push　AGAINST。　　You

can't　push　'nervous　dyspepsia'！　　And　look　at　Roscoe；　just　LOOK　at　what　that

boy's　done　for　himself；　and　barely　twenty…seven　years　old　married；　got　a

fine　wife；　and　ready　to　build　for　himself　with　his　own　money；　when　I　put　up

the　New　House　for　you　and　Edie。〃



〃Papa；　you'll　catch　cold　in　your　bare　feet；〃　she　murmured。　　〃You　better　come

to　bed。〃



〃And　I'm　just　as　proud　of　Edie；　for　a　girl；〃　he　continued；　emphatically；　〃as　I

am　of　Jim　and　Roscoe　for　boys。　　She'll　make　some　man　a　mighty　good　wife　when

the　time　comes。　　She's　the　prettiest　and　talentedest　girl　in　the　United

States！　　Look　at　that　poem　she　wrote　when　she　was　in　schoo